Posted by Lieutenant Cara Esmé Mardusk (Counselor / Education Specialist) in It’s Not a Wedding without Drama

Posted by Lieutenant Cara Esmé Mardusk (Counselor / Education Specialist) in It’s Not a Wedding without Drama

Posted by Lieutenant Commander Gravel Mardusk (Chief of Security) in It’s Not a Wedding without Drama

(snip)

Gravel watched his new wife dance with his new father-in-law, and he smiled. As they music faded away, the assembled guests clapped and a few whistled and cheered. Suddenly, there was a loud reverberating bass-like sound… like a massive drum was being beaten. Gravel’s eyes narrowed and he looked around for the two Klingons. They were nowhere to be seen. The sound, however, was coming from outside the pavilion. Gravel walked over and took Cara’s hand and looked down at her and grinned. “Oh… you are gonna want to see this…” and he led her and the more curious (and less drunk) guests outside.

Cara returned his grin. War drums. She wondered if this was a Klingon thing or something to do with the McKenzie-Edmans. Except a quick glance had an accounting of them all.

The truck that had delivered Hall and Oates was parked in the middle of the square. The sides had been folded down and on the bed-slash-deck stood a massive war drum. One of the Klingons was beating it so that it’s low rumble could not only be heard… but felt. As he continued to hit the skin with a large mallet, the other Klingon emerged carrying two bat’leths. He looked at Mardusk and said “Mardusk. Son of House Noggra. Son of T’Kor. Champion of the Cartunan Expanse. You have taken your mate. But are you warrior enough to keep her.” Gravel squeezed Cara’s hand and muttered Fu<k under his breath. He then stood tall and said “I have. And I am. If anyone dare challenge me for her hand, I will accept all comers.” It was then another voice from behind the truck yelled “I CHALLENGE!” and a form walked from behind the drum and into view.

Cara squeezed his hand back and watched with a neutral look. She wasn’t sure if she should look bored, insulted, or blood thirsty, so neutral it was.

The Klingon was as tall as Gravel and had one arm. Gravel growled at the sight of the figure and he said “P’Tar… of course.” and spit on the ground in front of the warrior as he approached. P’Tar gave Mardusk a glare that was unmistakable. “I challenge you, Mardusk of Star Fleet. Do you accept?” Mardusk looked at him for minute and then looked at Cara. “So… this is a test. A Klingon proves himself capable of defending his partner. It’s supposed to be a kind of ceremonial formality.” and he looked back at P’Tar. “But I’m pretty sure he is here to kill me.”

Gravel

Cara looked over the one armed figure and then looked up at Gravel. “Okay. So I’m certain whatever ya did ta make him want ta kill ya, he deserved. Ya will tell me later. What exactly am I supposed ta do?” She waved a hand toward the Klingons. “I mean we have our ancient traditions too. Then ya are obviously adopted inta a combined Scottish Nordic clan. And they look ready ta kill on yer behalf. I’m sure Helka would lend me a weapon. We’re talkin’ four distinct cultures, no ta mention what yer mom looks like she’d like ta contribute.”

Gravel looked at her and said “I’m the reason he can’t clap.” with a wry grin.

She looked at P’Tar once and then back. “Am I supposed ta fight by yer side, stand outta the way ta watch?” There was the Klingon Right of Vengeance, but to utter that, Cara felt was disrespectful. She was absolutely certain Gravel would win.

Lt. Mardusk, counselor

“I dunno. Like I said… this is supposed to be a formality.” Gravel said. He squeezed her hand and let go, stepping forward. He looked at P’Tar. “So. We gonna do this now? Really? It was ten years ago, P’Tar. And you have to admit, you had it coming. Besides… that is a hell of a war wound. Most Klingons would give their-” and he looked at the left side of the Klingon, the one that didn’t have an appendage, “- left arm for a battle wound like that.” P’Tar, to his credit, didn’t take the bait. “Always with a clever quip. We will see how well you speak when I cut out your tongue.”

Cara had to bite her own tongue to stop from saying the totally inappropriate thing that was about to tumble right out of her sassy mouth.

Mardusk shrugged and held up his hands and signed Pretty well, I think. and a few people laughed. The noise caught P’Tar off-guard and he looked at the crowd…

And Gravel punched him right in the face… hard.

The big Klingon stumbled backwards and crashed into the side of the war drum, which wobbled and then fell over and off the truck. Gravel looked at P’Tar, who was stunned silent and sporting a very broken nose. “We done?” Gravel asked as the one-armed warrior shook his head and regrouped. P’Tar clambered to his feet and took a steadying breath when two black blurs raced past the crowd and slammed into his chest. Hall and Oates bared their teeth at the Klingon and saliva feel in rivulets from their mouths. Gravel put two fingers in his mouth and whistled and the two targs stopped growling and sat down, but never took their eyes off of P’Tar.

Gravel

Who knew where she came from or how she moved that fast, but Cara was suddenly standing over the prone P’Tar, the spiked heel of her shoe pressing just enough into his carotid artery to let him know how much danger he was in. Her other foot was stabbing into his remaining wrist, the nice soft fleshy part. She dropped her center of gravity, rooting herself in place. “Now listen here, boyo. I’ve played nice ta yer Klingon traditions and interruptions ta my weddin’. I’ve done this ‘cause it’s important ta my husband.” Cara looked like some kind of mythic warrior fey, straight out of legend. Her green eyes blazed and her red hair seemed to crackle. “We have our own traditions and an Irish woman don’a marry a man that hasn’a already proven he can provide and protect her. Now, I’d let this little farse continue if I thought ya even cared a single ounce about my honor and well bein’. However, it’s clear yer here for a child’s tantrum and sense of gettin’ even.”

She dropped down slightly, the heels diggin in. A wicked knife appeared in her hand. Curved, serrated, and deadly sharp. There was no telling where it came from or how she’d hidden it until then. “Now ya have a choice ta make. Ya can swear on the Honor of House Noggra and yer own personnel honor that yer done with this forever, or,” she dragged the knife over his abdomen, “ya can refuse and I swear by the Morrigan, I’ll gut ya like a pig.” That comment got a lot of wicked laughs from the crowd. “Then I’ll drag ya all the way ta Blarney Castle. My sister, she’s the chief surgeon of Star Fleet Medical, well she’ll make sure yer alive and awake for the entire trip. I’ll drag yer arse by hand the 109 kilometers and then hang ya by yer entrails ta the Blarney stone. I’ll feast and get drunk on blood wine while I watch the ravens feast on your body while yer still alive. Then, when yer finally dead, I’ll feed ya ta my targs.”

Cara rose to her full height, digging into his wrist, but letting up just enough for an answer from his neck. “What’s it gonna be?”

Lt. Mardusk, counselor

Bump